Rupees
by LucidityEater
Summary: Just another day in the shop, and too much time for thinking...


_A/N: RAAAAAVVIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOO~~~~~~~_

 _I was really lax with the dialogue and some other things, so if you find a mistake it's because I'm lazy._

* * *

"Be patient, Sheerow."

Ravio sighed, lacing his hands behind his bunny hood. Another day lounging around in the shop. It was actually quite nice, not having to do anything. He honestly could sleep all day if he wasn't expecting customers.

He cast his gaze over the display benches. The thing was, if everything but one wasn't all sold out, he would be able to put up 'for display only' signs next to every product. He only had one of each, as he was only expecting to service one customer.

Sheerow settled on his shoulder and Ravio smiled at the bird, shifting his hood up so he could see better. The bird was the only companion that could have followed him here, and he was regretting leaving in the first place. But it was the only thing he could do….

 _Hilda, I'm sorry._

He shook his head, and threw his hood on the floor, at least getting _that_ weight off his shoulders. Sheerow squawked and soared over to a bench, alighting on the 'sold out sign'.

He made his way over to the window, shielding his eyes at the bright sunshine. He wasn't used to so much light, and so much life…compared to Lorule this place was a haven for all kinds of creatures. There was very few monsters too, if he didn't count the soldiers. Just a few blobs and maybe an agitated crow was all he would encounter…if he bothered to venture out of the house. Everything here was strange to him. This world was so different. So new, so bright, so pure…it wasn't falling apart at the edges.

He sighed and moved away from the window. His pockets clinked as he walked, and he ran a hand through his dark hair, shadows under his dark red eyes. The only good thing that he was getting out of this was the giant horde of rupees. The gems were everywhere, stashed in his bag, his hood, the many pockets inside his purple robe. At least he had made a great profit.

He stuck a hand inside his robe and drew out a green rupee. The tiny crystal sat in the centre of his palm, glittering, no bigger than the last joint of his finger. He was glad that Lorule and Hyrule used the same currencies and assigned the same value to each colour. In Lorule, the affairs of money were the only stable things.

Lorule. Hyrule. Low, High. This business of parallel worlds confused him. Lorule's destroyed Triforce had been created by three goddesses, and Hyrule's intact, well, now was it still a whole? Hyrule's Triforce had also been made by three goddesses, the Golden Goddesses. Hilda had studied well. What puzzled him were the goddess trios. Were the goddesses that created Lorule the same one who created Hyrule? Or were there six altogether-?

Sheerow screeched from the window, interrupting Ravio's reverie and causing several rupees to jump around. He quickly picked his hood up from the floor and pulled it over his head, concealing his face, tightened his scarf, and ran to the centre of the one-room house, hands clasped in front of him. A customer had arrived.

Sheerow hovered above his shoulder as the door was pushed open, and in the doorway stood Ravio's counterpart. Or was he the original and Ravio the counterpart?

He shook his head, clearing it. "Welcome, Mr Hero!" he cried. "What can I do for you today?"

The hero flicked his sandy hair out of his blue eyes and ignored him, heading for the shelves. Ravio padded along beside him, hands still clasped with an expectant air, and a brilliant smile. But the visitor couldn't see his face.

Link walked alongside the shelves, staring at, Ravio noted, the 'sold out' signs. He inspected each one as if he could still buy them, and turned to the last remaining object, the sand rod.

Ravio's smile turned to a smirk as he remembered his first customer. It was hard to forget a man so full of himself. At first Ravio had thought an enviously beautiful woman with piercing green eyes and long silver hair had walked through the door, but when 'she' had referred to 'herself' as 'Sahasrahla's apprentice' he had quickly corrected himself to 'enviously handsome man'. One couldn't tell from appearance, or voice. That man had a deep voice.

Link picked up the sand rod and held it out, not saying a word. Ravio nodded enthusiastically.

"Are you looking to rent, or buy?" he asked, hoping it was the latter. Link just stared at him.

"Buy. That'll be two thousand rupees."

Link rolled his eyes at the extravagant price and dug in his tunic pocket, giving Ravio an opportunity to search for some other magic pocket, a bottomless bag, perhaps. He had no idea where the hero put everything.

Link held out his hand and opened it, revealing a silver rupee. Ravio could 'decompress' it later. He took it, put it in his pocket, and suddenly started doing a little dance. Sheerow squawked at him disapprovingly and the hero just watched.

"My deepest thanks for being the best customer ever! At last! I've sold all of my items! Yay for me! Thanks to your efforts, Mr Hero, I've made a great prof– I mean, I've made a great friend!" He bit his lip as Link narrowed his eyes. Whoops.

When the hero left Ravio leaned against one of the tables, pushing back his hood with a sigh. Was it time to close up shop?

"What do you think, Sheerow?" he asked, holding up a hand for the bird to land on. "Should we get going?"

Sheerow squawked and pecked at his sleeve.

"We'll stay until he's done his job." He picked the silver rupee out of his pocket and narrowed his eyes at it. Two thousand rupees exactly. The hero never paid the wrong amount.

Heroes. Hilda had told him that there was a long line of them, stretching back into the past, all wearing green, hair ranging from fair to brown, and piercing blue eyes. Did that mean there was a long line of Ravios too, with dark hair and red eyes? The thought made him shudder. More counterparts.

The long line of Hildas wasn't hard to comprehend. It was a tradition to name the princess Hilda, and now there was so many of them no one bothered to say 'Princess (or Queen) Hilda the thirty-first'. It was more 'Hilda the weaver', when there was a great demand for cloth, 'Hilda the builder', when the castle had been expanded, 'Hilda the Hater', who had such a deep vehemence for foreigners she banned any sort of trade between Lorule and neighbouring kingdoms. Ravio winced. He didn't like the sound of Hilda's great-great-great-fifteen-times-more grandmother.

But the long line of Zeldas. It confused him. Did the worlds act in tandem or was one mimicking the other? In the case of how each dealt with their Triforce there had been no connection. Their actions were unrelated.

He shook his head again. His thoughts were wandering again. That was what happened when one couldn't do anything. All he could was sit back and watch and hope as the hero went on his journey. Because he wasn't the hero. He never would be. So he had to make sure that the real hero was the best possible hero either worlds could have.

Because he couldn't let either of these worlds die. Because he couldn't let that hero die. He wasn't a killer.

He could only wait and hope.

Hope was hard to come by these days.


End file.
